


Night Terrors

by deviltakehimback



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, berena - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-13 14:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7980244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviltakehimback/pseuds/deviltakehimback
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or the one where Bernie isn’t afraid of loud noises, but does have something else to work on. </p><p>TW: reference to PTSD, war, gunfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleep out

 

**\- - -**

 

She knew they expected her to have some sort of panic attack whenever there was so much as a slight bang or clatter in the AAU. Not an uncommon assumption, about someone who has come home from war. All those bullets flying, they'd think, it must have been so _traumatic_.

Contrary to that popular belief, though, Bernie didn't have a problem with noise. She liked it, actually, and it was part of what kept her at Holby. The busy wards and the hum of equipment kept her ticking, and provided a pleasant soundtrack to every working day. On a daily basis, plenty of patients would crash to the ground, knock things over, bang fists, shout at the doctors or at each other. She hardly noticed.

No, Bernie Wolfe wasn't frightened by loud noises.

What she hadn’t realised yet was that she was fucking terrified of silence.

 

\- - -

 

She hadn't figured it out until she and Marcus had separated. The telly was usually on when she'd get home and Marcus snored like a train, more often than not well asleep before she got to bed. There was no room for silence in her day.

The first night in her new third-storey flat hit her like an ambulance full of bricks.

She'd tracked her few bags in the door, stocked the fridge a bit, and set up the essentials: a kettle, her modest weight station, and the WiFi. She thought briefly that this probably wasn't what Alex meant when she imagined Bernie "sorting her life out". She shrugged it off.

Exhausted from the move, she reckoned an early night was in order. Might help her settle into her new nest.

 

\- - -

 

The bed wasn't uncomfortable. She'd brought an old duvet from the house and couldn't really ask for a cosier set-up in her box room, the concrete of the apartment complex deflecting the summer heat. She didn't have a problem with tight spaces either, a bonus considering the cramped feeling of her new digs. She liked the whole place, and it wasn't far from work. As soon as she'd seen the place she'd made an offer, two months of rent up front. She’d keep an eye out for something better.

Staring up at the spotty ceiling, she decided she'd refer to this as the master bedroom if anyone asked.

Making sure she had her alarms set for the morning, she curled into the folds of the duvet and waited for herself to nod off. A street light threw slanted light through the blinds, painting the room a dim shade of orange-green.

Sleep came to her in fits. She tried not to check the time, rolling instead in search of a snug position that might be more conducive to some shut-eye.

At 4.07am, she woke in a sweat.

Sitting bolt upright, she strained to slow her breathing. She quieted herself, eyes scanning the room and ears working overtime. A creak in a neighbour's floorboard. A car horn down the street. Little else. In darkness, she swung her legs out of bed and did a quick once-over of the hallway, bathroom and the kitchen-living space. She found nothing, heard nothing but the sound of her bare feet padding softly on the wood floor and the thud of her heartbeat.

No alarms, no sirens, no fighter jets overhead, no gunfire.

That didn't make her feel any safer.

\- - -

 

Four more nights like that and she had resorted to camping in the office, where she felt a million times more at ease and could get more than a few hours of fitful rest. She hid it well enough: plenty of spare sets of clothes and a roll up mat that fit snugly under her desk when she wasn't using it. She was content to hide like this for however long she needed to, because the flat gave her the absolute creeps.

She was sure Serena knew what she was up to, and she'd just been minding her own business.

She was sure, because she arrived every morning with a second coffee to accompany her usual disarming smile.

 

\- - -

 

She'd had worse, really. Anything is great compared to the dust, and the constant almost-sunburn.

Her back, however, did not take kindly to the new sleeping arrangements. A twinge while in surgery and her grip loosened, very nearly carving a deadly laceration in a patient's liver. She got it together in time, but it felt as though there was no end to the subsequent stiffness.

She lay poker-straight that night, praying for the pressure to subside. At least she was sleeping.

 

\- - -

 

She woke to the sound of the office door creaking open, bringing with it a rise in the volume of the humming ward.

She blinked herself awake, hoisting herself up in her elbows to greet the new day, and her office-mate.

Serena looked down at her, all sunshine and smirk, and cleared her throat. Bernie was expecting a right dressing down, but all that came was a muffled sigh.

"Coffee?" Serena asked, lifting the Pulses cup slightly and gesturing towards Bernie.

Bernie struggled to her feet, teeth bared against the ripping sensation in her back and graciously accepting the offer of caffeine.

Whatever Serena wasn't saying, Bernie could practically feel it boring into her. She resolved to have a talk about it, soon. Maybe not the part about being afraid of her tiny apartment, but the bit about sleeping in the office.

It'd be better to sound lonely than to let slip about her fears.

At least the loneliness part wouldn't be a lie.

\- - -

 

The next morning, Serena hesitated after coming in the door, slinking to her side of the desk to silently place a stack of files in her workspace. When she knew Bernie was awake, she levelled a stare approximately at the tile next to her head, avoiding eye contact.

"So, care to explain this, then?" She asked, gesturing weakly towards Bernie, whose eyes were full of sleep but whose mind could not miss such an opportunity when handed to her.

"No point in suggesting I've been floored by your beauty?"

Serena scoffed, but she blushed all the same and dropped the subject in a flurry.

Bernie was quite impressed with herself on that, as she watched Serena bow her head and bolt from the office. She knew it'd come up again, though.

 

\- - -

 

She and Serena had become quite adept at ignoring things, at religiously avoiding certain topics while speaking with one another.

Their endless, shameless verbal tennis was one, replete with an undeniable sexual tension that Bernie wished she could act upon. There was also the fact that Bernie had ever so slightly cheated on her husband of twenty-five years (twenty-two when the affair began). Bernie's sleeping habits would quickly become another such topic of non-discussion.

\- - -

 

Two weeks on the office floor and Bernie still hadn’t explained herself, and Serena was the only one who knew it was happening. By this point, she’d been getting enough sleep to start thinking clearly about what was going on. She’d woken up, afraid for her life, and not been able to figure out why. Especially since she hadn’t had any such episodes up until that point. She no longer thought that it had been a side-effect of being in a new place.

On her lunch break, she decided to sneak up to Psych and have a quiet word. Grateful for their understanding and discretion, she walked away with an appointment slot with a consultant for the following morning. She felt like this might be something she could get a handle on, with a bit of elbow grease.

 

\- - -

 

PTSD comes in all shapes and sizes. That’s what the consultant said to her, not certain he’d found a solution but willing to give her some advice.

Maybe she hadn’t wanted that verdict, but she didn’t give a single toss about it, if it meant she had a means of dealing with it. She’d never be able to even budge with Serena if she wasn’t sure she’d feel safe sleeping anywhere but the hospital – enticing as the idea of office shenanigans was.

He had launched into a monologue about the many things that can affect an ex-soldier, some of which did resonate with Bernie. When he began to elaborate on the story of one US Marine who’d started hearing phantom noises on his too-quiet farmstead, she felt something click.

He nodded his encouragement as she admitted that she felt some truth in his words. He suggested she sleep with the radio on, or get a white noise machine. Bernie left his office a little confused, but steadfast in her determination.

She wanted to get past this nonsense so she could get on to doing the more important things in life.

 

\- - -

 

Upon her return to the ward, she cornered Serena as she stepped away from a patient’s bed.

“Got a minute?” She half-asked, grabbing Serena gently by the sleeve and steering her towards their office.

As she pulled them into their dimly lit headquarters, she loosened her grip and turned to face Serena, who closed the door with a low click and shot her a puzzled look.

Bernie briefly thought that this really wouldn’t be a bad place for some hands-on action, with the blinds shut and door locked, nobody would suspect... She forced a cough, attempting to rid herself of such thoughts. Not yet.

She settled herself against her desk, crossed her arms and faced Serena.

“I’m sorry I’ve been taking up space here, it’s just I’ve been... the flat... it got a bit much to be living in my own head.” She worried she might talk herself into a corner with that, but she’d already started.

“I’ll be out of here tonight, so you needn’t worry about waking me in the morning.”

Serena’s eyes flashed with what Bernie might have called concern if she’d tried to put a name on it, but she was simply trying not to get lost in the hazel depths.

“You know,” Serena started, seeming relieved to finally be talking about this, “You can stay with me any time, if you need to. I don’t bite; Jason keeps to himself in the evenings and you’d have a room to yourself.” She looked hesitant, but spoke with clarity.

Bernie wondered if she could be talked into the biting part.

She shook her head.

“I might just take you up on that. For now, though, I think I want to give my place another go. Make the most of the rent I’ve shelled out already.”

She didn’t miss the twitch of disappointment as it passed across Serena’s face, and she kicked herself for turning down an opportunity to spend some quality time with Serena. She decided she’d definitely take her up on the offer, once she’d regained her ability to sleep like a functioning human being.

 

\- - -

 

A bit of online research brought up a website that played a constant feed of background noise. She could pick from café noises, waves lapping at stones with the odd seagull, or the sound of heavy rain.

Biting the bullet, she relocated herself to her apartment and settled in for the evening, tossing out the few unrecognisable bits of food she’d left in the fridge, and working on some simple weights exercises for part of the evening. As 10pm rolled around, she had a quick shower and shrugged into a loose t-shirt and cotton boxer-briefs.

As she towel-dried her hair, she pulled up her laptop and set up a rainstorm playlist, already feeling a warm rush of comfort at the sound of distant rumbles of thunder.

It reminded her of winter holidays when she was little, sneaking to the window to watch the sheet-lightning dance while her parents scrambled to find a way to light their array of mismatched candles.

Her lips lifted in a smile at the memory, as she set the laptop on the bedside locker and slipped into the soft embrace of her duvet.

 

\- - -

 

She woke in the morning to the trill of her alarm, her back for once not screaming for her attention. Astonished, she sat up and pinched herself, beaming like a fool when she confirmed that it wasn’t a dream. She didn’t wipe away the tears as they fell, silently, tracking down her face to fall to her chest.

 

\- - -

 

She decided to give it time, consulting with her new friend in Psych, before admitting that the sound therapy was working a bloody charm. It wouldn’t be a cure-all. She’d be going in for weekly sessions with a therapist down the road, on the back of recommendations from her consultant.

She paid for her third month of rent, finding herself settling into a rhythm.

Serena hadn’t asked her anything about it since she’d stopped kipping in the office. Bernie didn't miss camping out on the tiled floor, but she did miss waking up to Serena Campbell smiling down at her.

 

\- - -

 

Bernie had made it to four months in her flat. Actually sleeping there, she was starting to hate everything else about the place, not least that she couldn’t have anyone over for tea because it was so small. She’d been keeping half an eye on local listings, but decided she needed to double her efforts.

 

\- - -

 

Autumn arrived in a northern wind and seemingly unending list of trauma cases. Her schedule was all over the place, but one Friday she finished her shift at five after midnight, walking out into the crisp air of the night. With the weekend off, she popped a text to Serena wondering if she had plans for the following night, not expecting a response at such an hour.

She'd lit a cigarette and taken two deep drags before her phone lit up in her hand. Serena was still awake, and had once again extended an invitation for Bernie to stay over. She’d never forgive herself if she turned down such an offer twice, and so she sent off a quick message of affirmation, wondering if she should call a cab.

Serena told her not to bother, that she’d there in a flash. Pulling the strap of her shoulder bag across her chest, Bernie breathed smoke into the darkness and waited.

\- - -

 

Serena arrived to Holby carpark a little over fifteen minutes later. Bernie packed herself into the passenger seat of the car, only to find a hot water bottle in a pink fluffy cover on the seat.

Her brow twisted into a question as she turned to face Serena.

"Didn't want to waste the heat on a bed I wasn't in."

Bernie's chest constricted. Serena shouldn't have even been awake at all, never mind happy to come get her from the hospital on her night off.

They drove in silence, Bernie clutching the hot water bottle in her arms.

The warmth in her chest was coming from an entirely independent source.

\- - -

 

Nestled on Serena’s living room sofa and nursing cups of decaf tea, they talked. Bernie opened up about her counseling, about the silence, about having felt like there was something lurking and feeling unbelievably lucky that the Psych consultant set her on the right track so quickly. She admitted that she hadn’t felt like she was even in a relationship with Marcus for years, and that falling into things with Alex had felt so right, once upon a time.

Serena listened, mostly, offering the occasional supportive pat on the knee and only bristling slightly at the mention of Alex.

The tea lulled them into a hazy, relaxed conversation without the slight buzz they’d have gotten from their usual tipple. Despite having been awake, Serena was taken slightly by surprise by Bernie’s text, and there wasn’t a drop of wine in the house. Bernie swore she’d buy her a bottle at the earliest convenience. Serena said they’d have to share it.

By three in the morning they were more than exhausted. A rough week on the job was catching up on them both. Their teacups were bundled together on the coffee table, their handles almost touching.

Serena rose from the couch, offering Bernie a hand as she steadied herself. Pulling her up, she made use of the momentum, and Bernie found herself stumbling into Serena’s personal space.

Evidently, Serena had also decided this was a good time to push past something else they’d been ignoring.

Bernie felt herself sway forwards, as Serena pressed a sleepy but confident kiss to her lips. She hummed into it just as Serena pulled away, her eyes closed.

“I’d been waiting for that for far too long, Ms. Wolfe,” she said, taking a slight step back but keeping her hold on Bernie’s hand. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Eyes wide, Bernie swallowed hard.

“I... no, not in the slightest, actually.” No, she didn’t mind at all.

“Good. Now, let’s get us to bed...”

\- - -

 

Serena assured a protesting Bernie that there'd be plenty of space and that she would be out like a light in seconds, and not to worry about the background noise annoying her. She also assured her that there’d be plenty of time for monkey business later and told her not to get too excited.

Bernie imagined sharing a bed with Serena under different circumstances, giddy at the thought. She rummaged through her bag, pulling out her laptop and sheepishly booting it up in a corner of the room. As the sound of raindrops began to fill the room, she noticed the edges of a smile blossoming on Serena’s cheeks as she pulled nightware from her dresser.

“If that’s what you like, you’ll have no problem once winter rolls around. Good old Velux windows,” she said, pointing upwards, “they’ll make you feel like you’re out in it.”

Bernie slipped into borrowed pyjamas and made a half-hearted attempt not to stare as Serena got changed, and then gracefully turned down the duvet and slipped into bed.

“None of that,” Serena said, sitting up against the headboard and spotting the look on Bernie’s face. “Although if you fancy staying tomorrow night too...” She trailed off, alert to the blush creeping across Bernie’s skin as she climbed under the covers of the queen-sized bed.

 

\- - -

 

This bed had the absolute best mattress that Bernie had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Maybe that’s where she’d gone wrong with Marcus. Their bed had seemed like a concrete slab. Or a dissection table.

With Serena curled up beside her, Bernie wondered if she'd ever felt quite this safe in her entire life. As Serena dozed off, out like a light as she'd promised, Bernie grinned into the night.

Never in her life had she been so glad to hear someone snore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Some light musical entertainment for when you're done - soundtrack to me writing this one.](https://play.spotify.com/track/0wvRpJSgHeF0h29t25jl3A)  
>  Let me know if you spotted any typos and I'll fix them - [](http://www.deviltakehimback.tumblr.com/ask>via%20my%20Tumblr%20askbox</a>.)


	2. Sleep over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heartfelt thanks to [ultragirlvfr750](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ultragirlvfr750/pseuds/ultragirlvfr750) for several rounds of beta and invaluable feedback. 
> 
> Enjoy, take note of the newly enacted M rating, and stay tuned for chapter three!

Bernie woke slowly to sunlight, and Serena planted across her chest and breathing deeply, the occasional grunt sneaking from her nose. Aside from the odd bird chirping outside, there wasn’t much else to hear. She reckoned her laptop had died at some point in the night.

From the sounds of it, Jason was already up and settled into the living room. The familiar tinkle of the _Countdown_ clock drifted up through the floor, and Bernie had no idea what time it was. She didn’t particularly care. She stayed as she was, her own nose nuzzling against the top of Serena’s head, making the most of the opportunity to breathe her in.

This was an unexpected turn of events, but one that Bernie welcomed entirely. She took in her surroundings, grateful for the morning sunlight illuminating the room. It was the size of her bedroom and living room combined. The bed alone was probably bigger than her kitchen. And yet it felt incredibly welcoming. She hadn’t questioned the invitation the night before but, thinking back on it, Serena must have known this was coming. Must have planned to get Bernie into bed, however innocently.

Serena’s breathing changed ever so slightly, and Bernie tried not to stiffen. As Serena came back to life, she tugged gently at the fabric of Bernie’s adopted pyjamas, near her waist. Bernie counted to three, then, not the least bit surprised when Serena realised where they were and jerked awake. Bernie instantly missed the pressure, as Serena pulled her arm back towards herself. Her head remained on Bernie’s chest, their faces inches apart.

“Good morning, sleepy head.”

“Good grief!” Serena responded, wrinkling her nose, ”Your breath smells foul!”

“Ah, the curse of smoking. I’ve been cutting down, at least!”

“I’ll loan you a toothbrush. I might even have mouthwash somewhere,” Serena rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she spoke, straightening herself in the bed as Bernie sat up and stretched her arms. “Failing that, I definitely have a bar of soap in the press.”

Horrified at the thought, Bernie covered her mouth with one hand, speaking through it.

“You’re getting nowhere near me with soap,” she said, struggling to contain the chuckle in her muffled speech, a result of the positively stricken look on Serena’s face as she held her nose.

“Well then, I take it you wouldn’t want to join me in the shower,” Serena silenced Bernie, her face the picture of innocence as she slipped out of bed. “Suit yourself!”

As Serena pulled the door of the en suite behind her, Bernie crashed back into the pillows and tried not to hyperventilate. One. Two. Three. And again. And once more. There definitely wasn’t a soon-to-be naked Serena behind that door.

Bernie rolled over, planting her face in the space between the two sets of pillows. She pulled the duvet over her head. A few moments later, she heard the shower start with a sputter. It settled into a steady stream, and Bernie tried not to think about water flowing down Serena’s body. Tried not to imagine droplets coursing over skin, her own hands following them. Tried not to think of how they’d slide together, the spray removing all friction between them, if she were in there with her...

Bernie wondered if it was possible to go completely insane from wanting something, wanting someone, so much. She also wondered if she’d ever be able to listen to the rain again without thinking about this.

She groaned into the mattress and waited for the shower to click off.

 

\- - -

 

“Now who’s the sleepy head?”

Serena’s voice woke her, still face down between the pillows. She flipped the duvet off her head with a lazy flap of her arms.

“I am completely awake, thank you,” she said, eyes groggy and face still full of bedsheet.

“Sorry? I didn’t quite catch that...” Bernie felt a dip in the bed, forcing her eyes open as Serena sat down along the edge.

She must still be asleep. Dreaming. Serena Campbell was definitely not sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a towel, with flecks of water still clinging to her shoulders. Bernie swallowed, battling the sudden dryness in her mouth and daring herself to let her eyes wander.

“I am completely awake.”

“Are you sure? If you’re not, I know something that ought to have you feeling fresh as a daisy.”

“And what’s that, exactly?”

“Close your eyes, and hold out your hand.”

Bernie did as she was told, stretching her hand across the mattress. She felt Serena lean in towards her, placing something long, rectangular and oddly sharp into her outstretched palm.

She groaned in realisation, a laugh building in her chest as she scrambled to sit up and pull herself out of bed.

“I can take a hint,” she said, practically bounding towards the bathroom, shiny new toothbrush in hand.

 

\- - -

 

A thorough scrub and a swish of scavenged mouthwash later, Bernie didn’t know where she was supposed to put the damn toothbrush. The package was fine, that had to go in the little black bin under the sink. But the toothbrush itself didn’t have a home. She wouldn’t dare presume she could leave it in the holder, instead laying it to rest on the back edge of the sink, safe from falling.

Serena hadn’t moved from her spot on the bed. She turned her head over a gloriously bare shoulder as Bernie came to sit beside her. There was something new in Serena’s expression, and Bernie wished she could bottle it and keep it with her at all times. She sat up straight, edging closer to Serena, wondering if she was about to cross a line and praying that she wasn’t.

“May I?” Bernie raised her hand, slowly, towards Serena, searching her face for signs of discomfort; any sign at all and she would retreat.

She watched as Serena inclined her head slightly, inviting her onwards.

With that, Bernie reached forward and ghosted her fingers over the nape of Serena’s neck. Extending her thumb, she dragged slowly down along Serena’s spine, pushing water droplets together and racing them towards the line where skin ended and towel began. She heard Serena sigh, her eyes slipping closed and her head tilting backwards.

The resulting silence lasted all of two seconds, before Serena shivered and rose from the bed. She quickly pulled a selection of garments together, from her chest of drawers and dresser. Bernie watched her potter around in her towel, vaguely worried that she had indeed crossed a line, and had made Serena uncomfortable.

She was pulled from that train of thought as Serena stopped just outside the door to the en suite, bundle of clothes under her left arm. Bernie observed as Serena Campbell raised her right hand and tugged at her towel, loosening it, and let it drop to the floor at her feet.

She disappeared into the bathroom before Bernie could say a word, leaving her to pull herself out of bed and get dressed in her own clothes. Her cheeks burned, every inch of her telling her that Serena Campbell is a goddess to be worshipped.

She would show her, in time.

 

\- - -

 

 

It was just past midday when they made their way downstairs, Serena alerting Jason to their presence as they passed the living room. He didn’t ask where Bernie had slept.

The _Countdown_ clock continued playing, in what seemed like an endless episode, as they munched through toast and cradled more tea. Serena politely explained that Jason never watched it during the week, but saved everything to the box so he could watch it at the weekend. He’d have other shows to watch, after that, usually monopolising the sitting room until about five o’clock. It left her to do the washing, and a bit of reading if she wanted.

Bernie couldn’t care less; she was thoroughly enjoying the background noise, and she’d spent the night in Serena Campbell’s bed. She’d been a privileged audience to an otherworldly show of skin.

She could float on that cloud for weeks if she had to.

 

\- - -

 

 

AKIZNELDG

 

Kin. Akin. King. Knead. King. Kind. King.

Kneal. Not a word. Where was the second ‘e’ when you needed it?

“Dealing, or leading, both containing seven letters,” Jason said, matter-of-fact as always.

 

 

DFTMILEOR

 

Mile. Mite. Lime.

Lift. Mole. Diet.

Bernie hated this game. And the woman explaining the words between rounds reminded her of Alex.

Fit. Flit. Drift.

“Trifled, seven letters.” Jason wasn’t quite triumphant, but he was happy with his answer.

Aha.

Bernie pulled Serena’s arm into her lap, slowly drawing letters across the skin, filling the space between her elbow and her wrist.

F-L-I-R-T-E-D.

Thankfully, Jason was engrossed in the show. As such, he said nothing about how the redness of Serena’s skin made it seem as though she had a fever.

Bernie could get used to _Countdown_ marathons.

 

\- - -

 

Serena dozed off after a while during one of the number rounds in the last recorded episode, head resting on Bernie's shoulder. Bernie didn’t get any better at it, but enjoyed humouring Jason and answered his questions readily. Like if she remembered the old presenter. And if she had ever gotten a nine-letter word. If she was any good at maths. If she liked other shows like this one. If she’d mind watching _Robot Wars_ with him, because he had some of those recorded too and the next episode would be on the following evening.

They watched the latest episode of _Robot Wars_ , Bernie feeling the adrenaline course through her as she watched fantastically built and completely weird robots knock lumps out of each other. Afterwards, Jason relinquished his control of the remote, making his way to kitchen for snacks before padding up the stairs to his room. Bernie heard his door slip closed, with a only the slightest squeak in the handle.

Bernie never thought that Serena would be such a heavy sleeper. Of course, she could be pretending. Bernie found it difficult to care, buoyed by the knowledge that Serena felt comfortable enough with her to stay this close to her, and for so long. Flicking through the channels, Bernie happened on an episode of _Gardener's World_ and settled in to watch while Serena gently snored beside her.

 

\- - -

 

As the end credits rolled and an ad popped up for the next programme, Serena yawned herself awake, smacking her lips.

"I never took you for a horticulturalist," she mumbled, fighting sleep out of her eyes.

"I'll have you know I used to be a keen gardener. I always liked sunflowers, and somehow the British summer suits them,“ Her eyes glazed over, memories tumbling in. “We dug up the whole thing for a patio, before I went on my last tour..."

“It suits me. Minding things. Mending things. Having more control over the outcomes than I ever did in the field. You have so much to work with. The heartbreak of a snail infestation ruining your carefully planted veggies? Extrapolate it, and you know what it’s going to be like when your patient gets an infection after an otherwise successful surgery.“

She could feel Serena staring up at her, as her own mind wandered down memory lane. She was surprised at just how much she wanted to pour out, how much she wanted to share with her.

She was also surprised that this was not something she was afraid of.

 

\- - -

 

Dinner consisted of shepherd’s pie from the freezer and a glass of mediocre wine from a quick trip to the shop up the road, with Jason indulging in a nauseatingly large glass of milk.

They watched through the back window as rain began to fall, lightly at first and building to a steady hammering. Bernie internally bid farewell to the summer, silently hoping for a bit of thunder.

 

\- - -

 

Bernie did not attempt to make her way back to her apartment that evening. She and Serena both knew she wouldn’t, not with the itch of desire marking their skin. A full afternoon spent pressed against one another, feeling each other’s movements instead of stealing glances across a ward, they didn’t dare put an end to it.

After dinner, they stayed in the kitchen for a short while, watching the rain, swapping divorce stories, and enjoying being in the same room. Alone. Together. Bernie had waited for this, had hoped it would work out somehow, and was reeling slightly. Serena had brought her home, had kissed her, and they had slept alongside each other. They had woken together.

These were simple things, but Bernie’s heart pounded all the same. Serena was sharing a bottle of wine with her, in her home, and watching the downpour with her.

Serena was losing patience as the day lost light, and by nine she had given up all pretence, staring unabashedly at Bernie’s lips.

Bernie made quick work of the last of her glass, reaching for Serena’s and standing from the dining table to leave them both by the kitchen sink. Serena stood to join her as she made her way back, resolve finally wearing thin. Bernie did not pull up short outside of Serena’s personal space. Instead, she continued her movement, pushing Serena back against the table, hands finding their way to her hips to steady them both.

With a little effort and a bit more teamwork, Serena found herself sitting on the edge of the table, knees parting to make way for Bernie’s waist. They both groaned at the release promised as their bodies drew together, and yet too much stood between them.

Bernie’s pulse was racing, and she could feel Serena’s breath hot and fast on her face.

With no sign of haste, she took her chance to bring their lips together. It wasn’t searing, but it shot through her and her nerves sang in response. Bernie thought it felt precious, like waking to see the first snowdrop of spring and knowing the rest will soon follow. She sighed into it, aching at this marvel of human intuition. She sent her gratitude to whatever Neanderthal had decided to invent this.

She could feel Serena’s hands clutching at her back, drawing her further in and sneaking under her shirt. She felt teeth on her bottom lip, pulling her open, pleading. A moan escaped her, unbidden, and she pulled back.

“Time for bed, I think?” she murmured, out of air. Happy as she would be to go the distance on the oak tabletop, she wondered if that might be massively unromantic for Serena’s first Sapphic dalliance. She forced herself to step out from between Serena’s legs, helping her down from the table. She missed the proximity at once.

“If I’m not mistaken, you mentioned something about monkey business.”

 

\- - -

 

Bernie didn’t know how they made it upstairs, and all without waking Jason. Serena excused herself for a minute when they reached her room, disappearing to the bathroom for what felt like seconds as Bernie gently turned the key in the bedroom door. She just had time to find the switch on the bedside lamp before Serena reappeared, glowing in the light spilling out behind her. The sound of rain was very real, for once, as it battered the windows.

They met each other halfway, falling into each other’s space, Bernie pressing a soft kiss to Serena’s lips.

“My turn,” she said, stepping towards the bathroom. “Don’t start without me.”

“Mmm, I’m making no promises there, Major.”

 

\- - -

 

Minutes later and minty fresh, Bernie came back out to the sight of Serena, lying flat on her back on that marvelous bed, with her left hand down the front of her unzipped black slacks.

She fucking well _had_ started without her, though she struggled to care in the slightest, watching Serena’s hips lift into her own hand. Bernie wasted no time in making her way to the bed, meeting Serena’s half-closed eyes in the dim light.

“Guilty as charged, though I make no apologies...”

 

\- - -

 

They undressed in tandem, teasingly slowly, neither wanting to deny the other the thrill of newfound territory.

They lay down facing each other, flush together in as many places as possible. Their hands squashed between them and clasped together, legs entwined, their desperate kiss unbroken for what seemed like hours. Serena’s touch left trails of white noise on Bernie’s skin; her tongue a salve for long-forgotten bruises. Serena took particular care with the scar running down the right side of her neck, and Bernie made a mental note to ask for that again.

Bernie allowed her fingers to wander, tracking over freckles, every inch of Serena offering a new chance to make her _feel_.

She hoped Serena wouldn’t find it odd that she rubbed light strokes into her stretch marks, any time she came across another. She’d always been indifferent to her own, but on Serena they seemed like timestamps, silver tendrils with stories to tell. On Serena, they looked like jewels.

She felt the smile against her lips, kissed teeth, as she grazed the side of Serena’s breast and continued her path towards her hip. She nudged Serena’s knees with her own, inviting, guiding Serena’s leg around her hip. With a start, she realised that her enthusiasm threatened to derail their wordlessly agreed pace. She paused, then, hand resting on Serena’s inner thigh and drumming on her skin.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re waiting for, Ms. Wolfe,” Serena practically growled, voice lower than Bernie had ever heard it, almost cracking, “but if you don’t touch me right now, I will.”

That was all Bernie needed to hear.

With care, she brought her palm to rest on warm flesh, dipping her middle finger to spread Serena’s heat and revelling in the response. Serena’s breath came to her in gasps, volume rising as Bernie dragged slowly along.

Serena was by no means quiet, and Bernie consistently shushed her, not daring to let her get louder. Soon, kisses were no longer enough to hold back the flood of breathy moans. Nails dug into Bernie’s back. She instructed Serena to bite down on her shoulder as she brought her towards the edge. As Bernie rubbed tender circles around her clit, Serena felt release come to her in waves. Bernie’s ragged gasps fell on her neck as she unraveled, her teeth sinking into skin, muffling a barked cry and sending a trail of sparks through Bernie’s abdomen.

 

\- - -

 

Bernie wasn’t surprised by the fatigue that fell over Serena as aftershocks coursed through her, Bernie’s hand happily trapped between clenching thighs.

“You’ll be cross with me if I fall asleep...”

“Never,” she whispered, straining to grab hold of the duvet with her feet. The air had begun to cool around them, and she felt the heat dissipate from her skin. She wriggled her hand a little, encouraging Serena to part her legs to free her. She pulled the duvet over them, making sure to cover Serena's back.

“Nobody’s keeping score,” she said, her hand resting once more on Serena’s hip under the blanket, “and I’m not going anywhere.”

 

 

\- - - 


	3. New territory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta once again provided by the wonderful [ultragirlvfr750](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ultragirlvfr750/pseuds/ultragirlvfr750). 
> 
> You'll be glad to know that the M rating is still very much alive and well. A shorter update than before, but I won't keep you waiting so long for the next one!

 

The following morning, Bernie felt lighter than she had in years, though Serena was once again doing her best to use her as a personal mattress. She had a feeling that this might become a habit. The rain had settled into a light drizzle by the time they awoke, far fewer layers of fabric between them than the previous morning. They lay in silence for a short while, Serena’s nose pressed lightly into Bernie’s neck, breath spreading a delicious tickle across Bernie’s bare chest.

Serena was aghast at the deep purple teeth marks on Bernie’s shoulder, repeatedly apologising and swearing she had Arnica cream somewhere in the house. Bernie reassured her that she had quite literally asked for it. She’d probably ask for it again, in fact, if she could be so bold.

 

\- - -

 

Serena took the first turn in the bathroom again. When Bernie stepped in after her, she noticed that her own shiny new toothbrush had mysteriously made its way into the holder, tilted against Serena’s own.

They breezed through the rest of the day, bidding a swift farewell to personal space and leaning into one another at every opportunity. Bernie felt as though she might burst, spending most of the day in borrowed pyjamas. Serena had the Sunday papers delivered, and they took a good stab at filling in one of the crosswords together. Bernie wrote in the letters, pausing every now and again to look up at Serena who, for her part, repeatedly lost her train of thought as she watched Bernie’s fingers expertly wield the pen.

Midway through filling in ‘observe’, Bernie realised that they’d both now have express permission to let their eyes wander over each other. They wouldn’t have to hide it from each other any more. Her mouth went dry at the thought, her gaze rising to the curve of Serena’s neck.

“And what exactly are you staring at, Ms. Wolfe?” Serena’s voice broke through her daydream.

“I think I could ask you the same question, Ms. Campbell,” she replied, raising her eyebrows in a challenge. 

 

\- - -

 

Bernie reluctantly insisted that she spend Sunday night back in her own flat. She felt the need to arrive to work in her own clothes come Monday. She had a reputation to rebuild, after all.

She swore to Jason she’d make it up to him and, on the back of an invitation from Serena, she promised that she’d watch _Robot Wars_ the following weekend if he recorded it for her.

Bernie shrugged herself into yet more borrowed clothes before bundling herself into Serena’s car for the drive across town.

As Serena pulled the car up outside her block, Bernie wondered if she should be extending an invitation to view her measly lodgings. She very quickly decided against it.

“In the interest of maintaining my dignity,” she said, as Serena killed the engine, “I think it best that you do not see the cardboard box I’ve been renting.”

Serena pulled the handbrake and dropped both hands into her lap, turning to face Bernie.

“How very sensible of you, Major,” she said, edges of her lips lifting in a devilish smirk, “though I do expect you back in my bed at the earliest possible convenience.”

Bernie was suddenly immensely disappointed in herself for accepting such pitiful accommodation, such was her desire to ask Serena upstairs and have her way with her. For one, she’d be certain that one or both of them would fall off the bed, and that her own spine would never forgive her if such a thing were to happen.

Reaching across the handbrake, she took Serena’s hands in her own. She sighed inwardly, meeting Serena’s gaze and pushing impure thoughts to the side.

“And I expect suitable recompense for last night’s services,” she said, watching as Serena’s face contorted in mock horror, “whenever it suits you.”

“I thought someone said we weren’t keeping score?”

“Oh, we’re not, but I remember you saying something about us being equals?” Bernie dodged, then, as Serena made a move to swat her on the arm.

 

\- - -

 

During the week, Bernie kept to her own flat at night, maintaining a schedule of stretches and muscle-building exercises with her weights, effectively trying to tire herself out before bed. She’d drift off every night to the sound of thunder and raindrops, visions of Serena awaiting her in her dreams.

Each morning, she woke not with fear, but with the creeping ache of longing for a body she had held, and which she wanted desperately to hold again.

 

\- - -

 

When there was noise, Bernie could zone it out. Focus on what she was doing, how much blood the patient was losing, the shouts of fellow officers announcing how much time was left before the squad needed to move out.

But in the dead of night, any single sound could signify an attack, an ambush, a threat to everyone’s safety.

On the ward, she knew whose monitor was whose, knew the sound the lift made and exactly how far away it was from her. She recognised the swish of the automatic doors leading into the hospital. The oncology unit always seemed to her like a sort of symphony and, whenever she did visit, she fell into step with the beeps piercing the stillness.

 

\- - -

 

The point of the counseling, as far as she was concerned, was to help her deal with her fear. Not cure it – she wasn't so naïve – but she did want to have coping mechanisms in case of emergency. She would not allow Serena to become a coping mechanism.

The fake rain noises were just the beginning. In her next session, she practiced a series of breathing exercises to ground herself, and she’d put them to good use in the middle of the night when she needed them.

She poured out story after story, finally picking at old wounds that she’d never bothered treating.

She had learned quickly that fibbing to her counselor would land her in trouble. Any time she felt the need to lie, she reminded herself of the girl who stole the peach. This usually gave her the strength to push through. When it didn't, she'd simply change the subject for a while and circle back around to it, eventually hefting the weight off her chest. Full disclosure.

Her relationship with her parents. Her childhood. Her army training. Her husband. Their disagreement when he asked her to take his name when they married. The first person she ever watched die. Alex.

The first person she saved. Her children. Returning to civilian life. Rebuilding personal space and her new-found independence. Embracing what she’d previously seen as the ‘dark side’ of her romantic preferences. Life on the better side of fifty. Serena.

She hadn’t cried so much in years, but she supposed it was a good yardstick for progress, and emotional growth.

She had a nasty habit of bottling things up.

 

\- - -

 

From time to time, she'd test herself and sleep without the rain machine. Mostly, she'd wake in a sweat again and struggle to calm her breathing.

Every now and then, though, she'd get almost a full night. On those mornings, the feeling of triumph would swell in her throat. She felt like she was getting somewhere.

 

\- - -

 

She and Serena kept a lid on things at work, as much as possible. Neither of them wanted to push their luck. They had time, and didn't want it to go beyond what they could control at work. Having had a taste of each other, though, the hospital became a different place entirely.

Bernie wouldn't be wholly surprised if everyone knew already. It was a miracle that Jason hadn't turned up and innocently, loudly mentioned it at some point. Dom had surely figured it out.

She had no immediate plans to make any grand declarations in the middle of the ward, but they couldn’t put an end to their in-theatre banter if they tried. Anyway, there’d always been a flirtatious edge to it and, frankly, it would have been more of a red flag if they _had_ toned it down. The most anyone else ever did in response was roll their eyes at them, and carry on working.

They also had the office.

They refrained from doing anything overtly sexual in there, for fear of being rudely interrupted, but there was certainly a fresh charge to their interactions. Serena seemed to _visibly_ take pleasure in raking her eyes over Bernie’s body in the mornings, delighting in whatever fantasy was playing through her mind. Always fully clothed, Bernie felt remarkably naked under that gaze.

She was also very interested in finding out what exactly those fantasies of Serena’s were. She vowed to make them come true, often muttering as much before slipping out of the office and leaving an impatient Serena in her wake.

 

\- - -

 

Really, she had less than a week to wait. As another Friday rolled around, Bernie found herself being practically dragged from theatre and escorted to the locker room to get ready to leave. Through a shameless grin, Serena informed her that Jason would be staying with Alan for the night, following a slight bribe on Serena’s part.

They both drove this time, anticipation clawing at Bernie as she followed Serena’s car to their destination.

They were in the door two seconds and Bernie felt herself being slammed back against it, Serena’s mouth already finding its way down to the scar on her neck and sucking, tenderly, at the skin. Bernie groaned into the open-mouthed kiss that Serena offered. Too soon, Serena stepped away, already making her way up the stairs before Bernie could react. As she went, she threw a glance back over her shoulder.

“Major Wolfe,” she drawled, edging out of her coat and throwing it over the banister, “this is also known as the earliest possible convenience.”

Bernie scrambled up the stairs after her, almost ripping her own coat off as she went.

 

\- - -

 

 

Serena followed Bernie’s lead from the previous week, taking her time and working Bernie into what could only be described as a frenzy. Before too long, Bernie was grabbing desperately at the bedsheets and finally, finally begging Serena to finish her.

Bernie squeezed her eyes shut, pressure building in every string of muscle in her body. What she expected was for Serena to be gentle, coaxing and shy throughout, as she was when she kissed her way down Bernie's neck, traced along the scar between her breasts.

What she had _not_ expected was Serena’s vigour as she scraped taut fingers down Bernie’s abdomen, drawing gasps from Bernie’s burning lungs with the flick of a wrist and the sudden pinch of a nipple, dragging teeth along Bernie’s hip as deft hands worked magic inside her and around her.

She was not expecting Serena’s fingers to make way for Serena’s tongue.

She was not expecting the moan that escaped her, oddly resembling Serena’s name, as her release pulsed through her. Bernie had always been particularly fond of Serena's trademark quick wit, but oh how she could do such wonderful things with her mouth.

She reached for Serena, who was suddenly much too far away, and folded into her arms. She quivered through her aftershocks, breathing heavily through her nose as Serena rubbed patterns on her back.

 

\- - -

 

Bernie dozed, accidentally, and woke some time afterwards as she felt Serena slip out from the bed. She blinked herself back to semi-consciousness, foggy eyes following Serena as she stooped to plug something in behind the dresser. 

Bernie heard rainfall and rolled to stare up at the window in the ceiling. She could see the stars, but she could hear it. Raindrops. Fuzzy, crackly, beautiful raindrops. Bernie wondered then how Serena had logged into her laptop but, turning her head, she saw the small white disk placed on the dresser. 

"It only took three days to arrive," Serena whispered, as she made her way back to bed.

"Online shopping at it's finest - I hope it's okay..." Serena seemed unsure, but Bernie felt as though her chest was filling with air. A mindblowing orgasm  _and_ a thoughtful gesture like this? Bernie wrestled with things she shouldn't say, and buried her face in the curve of Serena's neck.

"It's perfect," was her only response, as she stretched to drop a sleepy kiss to the line of Serena's jaw.

 

\- - -

 

Bernie spent any and all days off after that at Serena’s house. They’d spend whole afternoons sneaking kisses and soaking in their much-deserved break from the hospital bustle.

They spent their shared nights behind lock and key.

On Mondays, Bernie would arrive to work sporting a new bite-mark somewhere on her body; Serena’s parting gift for the week, staking a silent claim.


	4. What odds

Some Saturdays, Serena headed off to visit Elinor, the trips becoming a little more possible with Bernie more than happy to stay with Jason and binge on _Countdown_. Sometimes he’d go along too, and Bernie would hang back, making sure they’d have dinner when they arrived home.

Between her own personal reflections and seeing Serena build ties with her daughter, Bernie found the strength to reach out to Cameron. She did so via text, at first. She wanted to check in, see how he was doing, and let him know she still thought of him. If she could get him fully on side, there’d be hope yet for Charlotte.

 

\- - -

 

He was still living locally, and he was the one who suggested they meet up, the weekend before Halloween.

They met in a small café that smelled like a bakery. Bernie arrived ten minutes early, only to find Cameron already seated at a table for two by the foggy window, a small plate in front of him dusted with crumbs.

They fell into an easy conversation, with much less fuss than Bernie had expected. Perhaps the split from Marcus was exactly what she needed, in order to get her son back.

After some initial hesitation, they both relaxed, sharing odds and ends from their lives. He’d been working part-time in a shop over the summer, spending his spare time studying old notes to catch himself back up. He’d been back at med school for a month, and had wanted to tell her in person. Bernie didn’t cry, but she knew she would later on.

Two coffees and one freshly baked cinnamon swirl later, Bernie inquired after Charlotte. After slight hesitation, Cameron confessed that he spoke with her regularly and that Bernie was often topic of conversation. Charlotte wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to rekindle their mother-daughter bond, but she was coming round to it with time and Cameron reckoned she needed to let Charlotte make the first move. He also informed her that Charlotte wasn’t talking to Marcus either, though he knew nothing about the circumstances.

Bernie was thankful for small mercies.

\- - -

“So...” Cameron coughed, poking at crumbs on the table. Bernie knew that tone. Bernie had invented that tone. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, staring blankly at his hands as he went on.

“How’s the love life?”

“Cameron...” she warned, but she could already feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. There was no way on earth he’d miss that reaction.

“Yes, mum?” She spotted the smirk on his face despite his valiant efforts to mask it. It was hard to miss it; he’d inherited it from her.

“What I mean to say is, are there any new women in your life I should know about?” he asked, trying and failing to keep his face neutral as he straightened in his seat. “Or men?”

Bernie was suddenly very interested in the bowl of sugar packets to her left, but she could feel her son’s insistent stare. She sighed. Best be out with it, or she’d be lying by omission for who knew how long.

“Well... I’ve been...” she fumbled for the right words. She probably shouldn’t go overboard with descriptions on the first pass. She and Serena hadn’t really agreed on anything, except that Bernie was effectively forbidden from being anywhere but underneath Serena Campbell on any given Friday night.

Best not tell her son that. She’d probably already traumatised him enough as it was.

Eventually, she settled on a direction, and drew in a shaky breath.

“Well,” she said, voice low as she twirled her empty cup on the saucer, “There is someone new.”

 

\- - -

 

She tried not to throw everything at him at once. In her defense, though, this was the first time she’d been able to really _tell_ anyone about Serena and, well, she did have an awful lot to say on the topic. He seemed to be more than happy to listen, asking for more details when he could get a word in.

“I’m sorry,” she said, cutting herself off. She’d been harping on about Serena’s skills with a scalpel, how well she performed under pressure. “You don’t need to hear any of this–“

“Don’t worry about it, mum.” He smiled at her, trying to be reassuring. “You light up when you talk about her.”

She was blushing. She knew she was blushing. She knew it, and she didn’t care in the slightest.

“I’d... I’d like for you to meet her, properly meet her, some time, if you wanted to?”

Cameron grinned, absently clasping his hands together and leaning over the table towards her.

“I’d love to.”

 

\- - -

 

Serena welcomed her home with lunch and a half-glass of wine, and warm hands against Bernie’s frozen cheeks. Serena didn’t say anything pointed, but questions did hang in the air between them.

“I think he was miffed because he felt lied to,” Bernie said, giving her wine glass a gentle swirl. “He doesn’t seem too broken up about the divorce.”

“You certainly raised a wise one,” Serena said, her left hand quietly coming to rest on Bernie’s right, giving it a gently squeeze. Bernie tore her attention from the whirl of red wine, seeking out Serena’s eyes.

“He has learned from my mistakes,” she said, somewhat astonished at the young, thoughtful gentleman he had grown into. Despite her best attempts at screwing him up. 

“Ah, but so have you,” said Serena, and Bernie thought it might actually be true. She had learned quite a few lessons since landing back at Holby. The dream job had landed itself in her lap at exactly the right moment.

They held each other’s gaze for a moment, neither feeling the need to speak just yet. Bernie was the first to think of something worth saying.

“He'd like to meet you properly,” she mumbled, “as my... as Serena." She waited for Serena's response, wondering if she was taking things too far, too fast. Serena instantly proved that she wasn't. There was no apprehension in Serena’s eyes, the corners crinkling as a laugh bubbled from her throat.

“Funny you should say that,” said Serena, her tone playful, “because Elinor has been saying the same about you.”

 

\- - -

 

They relocated to the sitting room, falling into their usual rhythm. Having met with Cameron, Bernie was endlessly glad to have a sort of family unit to come back to instead of her sterile flat. Not that she’d say as much to Serena. That would be a step too far, certainly.

But she did think it.

She’d spent a long time wondering if she’d ruined everything with her children. If she’d broken her word so many times that they no longer believed in it. She understood where Cameron was coming from, but was he right? Would it have been better for everyone if she’d been honest, told them about Alex, done the brave thing and ended the marriage at the first sign of disintegration?

Maybe she’d never have been blown up. Maybe she’d have stayed in Afghanistan, stayed with Alex, stayed in the bubble. Once upon a time, that thought would have filled Bernie with a raging desire to run. To take the commission. Get back on the horse that threw her off so unceremoniously.

Now, though, it left her empty. The thought of being back there was less than enticing. She’d never have met Serena, which didn’t bear thinking about. Hell, she’d never have met Jason – bright, challenging but beautiful young man that he was. He kept her on her toes, and he was encouraging her to brush up on her anagram skills, which of course every good trauma surgeon needs to keep in check.

And however splintered her relationship with her own children was, she’d never have spoken to them again if she’d deserted them completely. Of that much, Bernie was certain. 

 

\- - -

 

Halloween in the hospital might as well have been a walking nightmare, though it served as a fantastic crash-course in treating people quickly and carefully. Bernie was almost grateful for the extra training for her trauma team, as incoming patients were sent from the Emergency Department.

Too many patients came in wearing full costumes. In their intense need to protect their handiwork. some of them refused to allow their clothing to be cut from them. One young woman wouldn't even give her real name, insisting that she be referred to only as the Mistress of the Night. That was until she lost consciousness, and one of the nurses managed to pull a wallet out from some dark fold of fabric. Organ donor. Student. Library membership. Charlotte's age. Alive and well, and very pissed off to have been disrespected.

Bernie was disappointed that Serena had the night off. They could at least have had a laugh about this if they were working together. Instead, Serena was at home, probably watching the fireworks from the living room, lights all off and staring out the front window. Jason would be with her, surely asking something about the finer points of firework manufacturing.

That image brought a smile to Bernie’s lips, though she didn’t have nearly long enough to dwell on it.

“What happened?” she shouted, as three scorched musketeers were rolled into the trauma bay, each of them howling in agony.

“Sent on from ED,” Raf explained, “knockoff fireworks in their back yard – and by the sounds of it, there’s more on the way.”

Bernie took a deep breath, grateful that Serena was at home and _safe_ , before launching herself after her newest patients.

**\- - -**

 

On the first Saturday of November, Serena was due for a quick visit to see Elinor for afternoon tea. They’d usually spend hours together, but Elinor was seemingly going to be in rehearsals for the next fortnight and on tour around Britain for another month again. Contact would be sparse, and Serena wanted to wish her luck in person.

Bernie woke up that morning to a kiss on the forehead, Serena already fully dressed and ready to head off.

“Tell her I said hello?” Bernie said, spotting a good chance to reach out to the younger Campbell.

“I will, darling,” Serena planted a kiss into her own hand, dropping her fingers to Bernie’s lips as she continued, “She’s already heard so much, I’m sure she’ll ask after you again.”

Bernie watched as Serena backed out of the room. She wondered if a lunch with the in-laws might be in order. She thought about Charlotte, then, how their radio silence had extended. All she could do was wait.

 

\- - -

 

Jason was perched in the armchair, facing the television, pen in hand and paper resting on his knee. Bernie had claimed the sofa, a fleece blanket wrapped around her legs to stave off frostbite. Her second mug of tea did a good job of warming her hands. They were on their third episode of _Countdown_ and Bernie was, unsurprisingly, losing. She’d gotten two words that were longer than Jason’s, bringing her to the grand total of fifteen points. Every other round had gone to Jason, and she didn’t even bother with the numbers rounds.

Having solved the final conundrum in less than ten seconds, Jason turned to her. She expected him to make a statement of his final total, as he usually did, and was surprised when he asked her a question instead.

“Are you and Auntie Serena in love?”

She balked, narrowly avoiding spilling tea down her front as she tried to keep her face from reacting on her behalf. She then remembered that Jason didn’t always understand facial cues anyway, and internally berated herself.

“I don’t know, Jason,” she said, “How about I ask her later and report back to you?”

He considered that for a moment, but Bernie knew he wasn’t convinced.

“But do you love her?” he pressed, and it was the next logical question. Oddly, Bernie didn’t feel trapped. She would not lie to him. Anyway, he’d seen the two of them together, and it wasn’t exactly a big leap to make. People had been telling him about love for his entire life. He’d recognise the signs.

As the _Countdown_ clock wound down, Bernie knew she needed to speak before Jason grew impatient.

“I do,” she said, feeling her shoulders loosen as the meaning of her words washed over her. “But I haven’t told her yet.”

“Do you want me to tell her for you? Auntie Serena says I’m a good messenger.”

Bernie considered it. She wasn’t a fan of grand gestures, but she did think the words needed to come from her, and not fall out of Jason’s mouth at some point.

“No, Jason, that’s not necessary. I’ll tell her myself,” she said, to Jason and to herself. He looked less than pleased. 

“That’s what she said.”

Bernie couldn’t fight the grin that broke across her face.

“I promise I’ll talk to her, okay?” That seemed to appease him, though he remained silent as he turned back to the television to wait for the next episode to start.

Love. Four letters. Not exactly a winning score in this game, but Bernie already felt like she’d won the jackpot.

 

 


	5. Lift-off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks again to [ultragirlvfr750](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ultragirlvfr750/pseuds/ultragirlvfr750) for unending support on this. Thus goes the end of this particular story, and so I would like to thank absolutely everyone who has commented or shared along the way and kept me going.

She couldn’t say it.

She wanted to, certainly, but she couldn’t. Not that evening, when Serena returned from her visit with Elinor and they stared across the dinner table at one another. Not that night, as she lay in Serena’s arms, entirely spent, her nose pressed to hollow of Serena’s collarbone.

Not the next morning, as she watched Serena scramble eggs at the kitchen counter. They were both clad in pyjamas, a sort of penitence for the night they had spent not wearing them. Serena had rooted out a years-old grey cardigan, and had wrapped it around herself before starting to whisk up breakfast.

Bernie felt the words swim through her mind, pulling up short as soon as they formed on her tongue. She wondered how long it would be before Jason took it upon himself to spread the good news, while she wrestled with her inner monologue.

This did not stop her from planting kisses on Serena’s skin throughout the day. She was rewarded that evening when Serena dragged her into the downstairs bathroom, stripped her of her top, and planted teeth marks neatly along the ridge of her right breast – a timely reminder of who’s whose, before Serena drove her back to her block of flats.

As she waved Serena off from the carpark, Bernie’s thoughts were crystal clear. She loved Serena Campbell, plain and simple. She just had to figure out how to _say_ it.

 

\- - -

 

Her tiny flat and work routine gave her an escape route, and time to breathe.

By Tuesday, she’d realised she couldn’t say it at the hospital. They didn’t really exist as a couple within Holby’s walls. Albie’s would be a similarly inappropriate venue for declarations of any great meaning. With that much figured out, Bernie knuckled down to plan a weekend that could knock Serena Campbell’s socks off.

 

\- - -

 

On Friday, Bernie walked the ten minutes to work. The blistering cold and biting wind made sure she was fully awake by the time she arrived, thick scarf tucked into her coat. She and Serena would be going home together that evening; there would be no point in bringing her own car for the combined twenty minutes of driving she’d do.

Unfortunately, Serena had the same idea.

“We’ll just call a cab when we’ve finished up, it’s no problem,” Serena said, arriving in the office as windswept as Bernie felt.

“I’m paying, then,” she offered, by way of apology and as a means of balancing out her stupidity.

“Deal,” said Serena, mischief twinkling in her eyes.

 

\- - -

 

In the afternoon, Bernie was called up to Keller to consult on plans for a tricky procedure. She mostly felt like she’d been drafted in for her level head, as she watched Sacha flit between possible courses of action.

After a bit of coaxing, she finally got him settled on a plan. With ten minutes to the end of her shift, she decided to save her feet and take the lift back to the AAU.

As the doors closed behind her, the dread set in. Something wasn’t right. A mighty three seconds later, the metal box shuddered to a halt. Bernie could hear the wires creaking above, below, somewhere outside the lift.

She could hear sweet little else.

 

\- - -

 

Serena was finishing up handover for the night staff when she got word from Raf that someone was stuck in the lift again.

“I assume you’ve called the service crew?” she asked, watching as he nodded in response.

“All we can do is leave it to them. Spread the word, in case any of the patients need to be moved, alright?” As soon as she said the words, she had the unshakeable urge to knock on wood. “I’ll be in my office. I should have been finished five minutes ago, and yet here I am.”

It took her a few minutes, after she’d sat down at her desk, to notice that Bernie’s shoulder bag was still on her chair, and their shifts were supposed to end at the same time.

Images of a quiet, empty elevator and a panicking Bernie flooded her mind, as she scrambled back out onto the ward to find Raf.

“Any word from the lift crew?” Raf shook his head, opening his mouth to speak but cut off by Serena as she power-walked to the lift, “Get them on the phone will you? I have a sinking feeling that Ms. Wolfe is stuck in there.”

“Don't worry, Serena,” said Raf, lifting the receiver and punching numbers. “I’m sure she’s seen much worse than a dodgy lift!”

If looks could kill, Raf had a feeling he’d already be on his way to the mortuary.

 

\- - -

 

Waiting for news, for someone to come and help, Serena paced by the lift doors. Following several failed attempts to call Bernie’s phone, and sweat formed beads on her forehead, on her upper lip. Her left hand had found a safe spot, twisting her necklace around shaky fingers.

Raf looked on warily, not wanting to get in the way and feeling utterly useless.

A further twenty minutes passed before the service team arrived; two men in polo shirts that could have been Robbie’s brothers they were so like him. Phone calls. Hushed tones. Heaving. Another phone call, and some other member of the team up a few floors.

 

\- - -

 

The lift doors opened with the grunts of grown men and a ‘ping’. Serena’s jaw loosened and her shaking hands stilled. She was overcome with relief, fatigue, and a dire need to laugh.

Inside the lift, sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her, was a very relaxed looking Bernie Wolfe.

 

\- - -

 

Pulling headphones from her ears and dragging herself into a standing position, Bernie broke the stunned silence that greeted her.

“The reception is shit, but turns out the WiFi still works in here. I’m glad I had my phone in my–“

She was interrupted by Serena barreling into her, throwing arms around her neck. She was thankful for the quiet night on the ward, because when she peered out of the lift over Serena’s shoulder, the only person staring at them was Raf. She shot him a warning glare as her hand came to rest on the small of Serena’s back, rubbing gentle circles. She’d know if he said anything about this, and he damn well knew it. He gave a weak salute and returned to his usual post.

Bernie brought her attention back to Serena.

“Was someone worried about me?”

 

\- - -

 

Serena wouldn't talk to her for the next twenty minutes, wouldn't say a word as they grabbed their things from the office. She was silent as Bernie changed out of her scrubs, which would usually invite some comment about what she planned to do to her later. Instead there was nothing. Bernie felt their awkward silence hang over them and felt strangely like she was back standing in a minefield. Serena didn't respond to any of her ventures at conversation, refused to accept any timid offers of physical contact, even, and Bernie was at a loss for her own words after that. This was a long ways from the bear hug they had shared when the lift doors opened.

Serena would not, however, let Bernie out of her sight, despite the verbal shutdown. She didn't make any attempt to remove herself from Bernie's company. Far from it, in fact; she hovered close by, allowing minimal distance but making no move whatsoever to touch Bernie.

Bundled in their coats and scarves, habit brought them to rest on a bench outside the hospital as they waited for their taxi.

Wind whipping around them, Bernie thought she heard Serena heave a deep breath into the air before speaking.

"I feared the worst," she said, deathly seriousness lending weight to her words.

"I'm fine, Serena."

"That doesn't matter, though, does it? I thought of a million terrible things that might happen to you..."

Bernie’s gut twisted in guilt, ashamed of being such a cause of concern for the woman by her side. She pulled her coat around her, wordless, as Serena continued.

"That's what happens when you... when you care about someone, isn't it? You worry about things you can't control, hoping blindly that everything will be okay–"

"You're talking as if–"

"As if I was concerned for your wellbeing and completely powerless to do a thing about it," Serena's words came in a rush of breath, impatient.

"Serena?" Bernie's voice was just above a whisper but it broke Serena's train of though. She placed a cautious hand on Serena's knee, aware of their position in the open air. Feeling the contact, the warmth as their bodies met, Serena leaned in against Bernie’s shoulder and turned towards her.

"Yes?" she said, clearly exhausted.

"I know what you mean," said Bernie, nudging Serena’s shoulder with her own. She inhaled deeply, weighing up her next move. "And, in case you hadn’t guessed,” she muttered, “I love you too."

\- - -

 

Their taxi beeped its arrival, then, and they scurried to take shelter. Huddled though they had been for warmth, the cold had already settled in their bones. The distance between them in the back seat only served to deepen the chill.

They remained silent for the trip home, allowing Bernie’s words to hang freely between them and letting their driver natter along with the radio. Bernie rubbed her hands together and pulled them into the sleeves of her jacket, attempting to rattle the cold from her skin. She willed the journey to pass more quickly, knowing that the best way to warm up had very little to do with clothing.

She felt the blush rise on her cheeks and caught Serena’s eye as they pulled up outside the house.

 

\- - -

 

“It’s like stepping out of a freezer,” Serena said, colour rising in her cheeks already.

“There’s only one thing for it,” replied Bernie, furiously rubbing her hands together for some sort of warmth.

She had been thinking about it for weeks, the possibility always slipping past her, but now she had every reason to go through with it. For the sake of their health and wellbeing.

“And what’s that, exactly?” Serena said, teeth clattering slightly as she spoke.

“Care to join me upstairs?”

“I’m afraid I’ll need a bit more than that to ward off hypothermia at this point,” Serena countered, though the look in her eye told a different story as she tried to contain a grin.

“Aha,” said Bernie, casually, “I never said we were going to bed.”

 

\- - -

 

While Bernie made her way upstairs, Serena swept into the kitchen to make sure Jason had eaten. She was also partially intent on making sure that Jason would have no reason to interrupt them in their activities.

\- - -

 

Bernie stripped herself of her jacket and scarf, slipped her shoes off, and stepped into the en suite bathroom she’d come to know so well. She closed the door and ran the shower hot, steam filling the room and fogging the mirror over the sink. She felt the blood slowly return to her extremities.

It wasn’t long before Serena joined her, knocking gently on the doorframe as she entered. She’d seemingly rid herself of all of her clothes in record time and now shivered as she stood before Bernie.

Serena reached out, toying at Bernie’s shirt, her raised eyebrow a silent suggestion that Bernie was very much overdressed for the occasion. At Serena’s touch, she felt a heat building in her veins, coiling deep in her abdomen in response, before an entirely different chill ran down her spine. This would be their first fully naked vertical encounter, and she could already feel gravity playing havoc with her body. She straightened her back, hoping good posture could make up for anything unsightly that might push Serena away.

For her part, Serena seemed entirely unruffled by the fullness of her nakedness. She also seemed to know exactly what was going through Bernie’s head and wasted no time in offering a distraction, bringing cold hands to grasp at stiffened nipples, and Bernie forgot how to breathe.

“Let’s get ourselves warmed up,” Serena suggested, pushing Bernie backwards with the lightest of pressure to her breast, sending shivers down her spine.

They moved in tandem, carefully stepping into the shower, both hissing as heat spread across their skin.

Serena closed her eyes and turned on the spot once, twice, encouraging her muscles to come to temperature. Bernie watched, slightly mesmerised, as Serena tilted her head back, tiny drops flitting back from her skin and falling away.

When Serena opened her eyes, she reached out her arms and beckoned. Bernie obliged.

She indulged in the heat, felt her mouth open to Serena’s tongue and felt the world fall away.

She indulged in the tiled cold of the wall as Serena pushed her backwards, hands roaming against Bernie’s slick skin as their bodies came together.

As Serena reached between them, her right hand distinctly full of _purpose_ , Bernie wasn't sure her legs could hold her.

 

\- - -

 

And so Bernie was surprised – impressed really – that her knees didn’t give way as Serena’s tongue pressed into the soft spot under her ear, as Serena’s fingers curled _exquisitely_ inside her. She felt her hips jolt into Serena’s palm, powerless to stop the moan that escaped her as the universe tipped over and she came, soaked and spent but with no trace of winter in her bones.

She was immensely grateful for Serena’s right thigh, which seemed to make light work of holding her upright as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.

 

\- - -

 

Serena grabbed her monogrammed bath robe from the back of the door and wrapped it around Bernie, all fluff and cozy warmth, before reaching for a towel for herself.

Together, bashful but unafraid, they stepped out from the steam and into the crisp air of the bedroom.

They took their time to dry off in the warm glow of the bedside lamp.

"Right, good night for a hot water bottle?" Bernie asked, already stepping towards the dresses.

"You read my mind."

\- - -

 

Jason was in the kitchen when Bernie made her way downstairs, wrapped tightly in Serena’s robe with the hot water bottle tucked under her arm. She padded along the linoleum with bare feet, legs a little shaky under her.

Jason had been scoffing crackers, by the look of it. Bernie could just about see crumbs on the counter, and what looked like the corner of a cheese packet sticking out from the bin. He turned to meet her as she approached him.

“Good evening, Bernie.”

“Good evening, Jason,” she replied, stepping past him to lift the kettle. Feeling its weight, she dropped it back into the holder and clicked it on.

“Have you spoken to Auntie Serena?”

She nodded. Bernie truly did appreciate Jason’s forthright attitude. It kept her on her toes.

“I have, and I told her how I feel,” she said, tilting her head to one side as she continued, “We have come to an understanding.”

“So you love each other,” he said.

“Correct,” Bernie affirmed, internally beaming as the meaning of that sank in, pulling the hot water bottle from under her elbow and unscrewing the top. Jason seemed appeased by the statement, and moved to speak again.

“When will you be moving in?” he asked plainly. The lid of the hot water bottle shot from Bernie’s grip, bouncing on the lino floor. She stared as it rolled in a wide circle and came to a halt at Jason’s feet. He stooped to pick it up and stretched out his arm to give it back.

“We, um, we haven’t spoken about that,” Bernie floundered, taking the lid from him.

“What do you speak about?” he asked, “You see each other every day at the hospital.” Bernie had an awful feeling that he was about to offer his middle-man services again and wanted very much to avoid that.

“We talk about patients, surgeries, that sort of thing,” she answered, staring into the steam rising from the kitchen appliance before her. “We don’t have time to talk about much else.”

He studied her for a moment, brow furrowed, before his features straightened out. The kettle boiled and clicked off.

“You should live here,” he stated, his words accompanied by a quick nod of the head.

“What?”

“There’s a shop in town where they can make a spare key for you, and you can sleep here during the week so you can both talk to each other.” He said it as though his word was law. She was too stunned to respond. 

“Good night, Bernie,” he said, “I’ll see you in the morning for _Countdown._ ”

Bernie watched as he left the kitchen, then listened as he plodded up the stairs, turned left down the hallway, and snapped his bedroom door shut.

They weren’t quite at moving-in stage, but she reckoned the idea wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. She grinned to herself as she poured from the kettle, steam tickling her nose as she filled the bottle.

 

\- - -

 

Upstairs, once again under lock and key, Bernie disrobed and impatiently slipped under the covers, into Serena’s arms.

They used proximity for warmth, Serena's front pressed close to Bernie's back, arm wrapped tightly around Bernie's torso. At their feet, the hot water bottle helped to keep the chill at bay.

Serena’s bed was sinfully, ridiculously comfortable. Bernie honestly wondered where it had been bought, because she’d quite like one for herself. Which, she supposed, she _would_ get if she ever moved in. The ball was firmly in Serena’s court on that point, though, and Bernie was happy with their arrangement.

In the dark, nifty bedside gadget pouring rain sounds into the night, Bernie felt Serena shift position behind her. Neither of them had been trying to sleep. They’d each been content to remain silent and listen to one another’s breathing mingle with the artificial drops.

Serena drew a breath, and Bernie knew before she breathed a word what was coming. She pulled Serena's arm tighter around her.

"Bernie..."

"Yes, dear?"

"Earlier, you said you knew what I meant."

"I did."

"I think... I think you need to hear it properly."

"Serena, you don't have to sa–"

"Shhh, stop," she chided, nipping at the exposed skin of Bernie's shoulder blade, sucking lightly to dull the sting. Bernie breathed a contented sigh, wriggling beneath Serena’s outstretched arm so she could turn to face her.

She'd already known of course, already been expecting this, Jason's expert messenger service having spilled the beans. And although Serena’s face was barely visible in the dim light, Bernie knew how every one of Serena’s laughter lines would move when she spoke.

"I love you, Berenice Wolfe."

Bernie felt a tightness in her chest at the confession, a swell and a swoop, as her sentiments were returned.

She felt Serena's breath, her lips tender as they found purchase on skin once more, not quite finding Bernie's mouth in the dark.

 

 

 

 


End file.
